Chemo pre-treatment is quite a cocktail. Each time Mom goes in for her Taxol treatment, she gets a magic elixir of who knows what. Benadryl, anti-nausea, pain medicine, steroids, and something that makes her beyond loopy. The last time she had Taxol was two weeks ago, and both Gary and I were in town to be able to enjoy the show. Today, I got it over the air waves, but it was no less spectacular. She animatedly talks in paragraphs about topics that I can't follow, then ends with a random question: "so, do you have to wake up for that at 5 tomorrow morning?" "Nope, I can sleep until about 7 tomorrow." "Oh, that's great, honey!"
Tonight, as I write this, she is hosting her book group. The group decided to read a collection of short stories, and Mom has them on her iphone, so she's been able to "read" too. I know she was looking forward to having them all with her and having some part of her normal life keep going as normal. Listening to NPR, reading and discussing with book club, talking about everyday life stuff, these are all crucial to her sanity and I'm so glad that her friends don't even think twice about indulging it. One of my uncles has made it his mission to make Mom laugh every day and will stop at nothing to make it happen (not that it's difficult, he's pretty gifted, comedy-wise). I LOVE this-what could be more healing than taking time each day to laugh, to see the ridiculousness of life and simply, purely enjoy it.
Last night was a rough night. After a great day of feeling well, she couldn't eat dinner and vomited her pills and all the liquids in her stomach. I don't think she got much sleep, which is a rough way to start round two of chemo. I know my dad didn't get much sleep, which is par for the course.
This is the 60th entry of this blog. There have been occasional mulit-day posts, but we didn't start the blog until a few days after the diagnosis and hospital admittance; basically, my dad hasn't slept more than three hours in a row in over 60 days. Neither has my mom, but she at least has been getting in solid naps throughout the days. Again, this question of sustainability creeps into my head. How much longer can he do this before he gets sick? And how much longer will I be able to split my life between the two coasts?
We'll all cross those bridges as they come. For now, I'm hoping for a good night and a very restful day tomorrow, hopefully without too many negative side effects from the chemo.